Infinitely Suffering Thing
by SllnaaEsh
Summary: CopDoc AU . Tamsin reluctantly takes an offer she can't refuse in order to ensure her spot for tenure at UC Berkeley. She never thought she'd have to take up a few extra hours as a student counselor, and she definitely didn't think she'd be so enamored with the newest Professor who seems to be filling the void in her life.
1. Chapter 1

Pairing: Tamsin/Lauren, Copdoc, minor doccubus moments,

Rating: M

Disclaimer: I'm a puppeteer and sadly do not own Lost Girl.

* * *

Lauren Lewis held her shoulders high and her expression neutral as she sat in an uncomfortable chair in a sterile room while having an equally uncomfortable meeting with several of her colleagues.

She looked to her right at Dr. Jensen, an old, unkempt man twenty years her senior. She felt sorry for the man and gave him a sympathetic smile when he locked his panicked eyes onto her calm ones. He didn't hide his emotions like Lauren had learned to do.

The poor man had coffee stains in his shirt, but Lauren can completely understand why. He had a family and a mortgage to take care of. Really, the biggest contributor for their (would have been) continued success was pulling out in a cruel game of political chess with no remorse. It was more common that she wanted to admit, so she took it in stride.

"Doctor Lewis, would you please go over your inventory for the west wing labs?" A voice, one she remembered she was supposed to be listening to, pulled her from her thoughts.

She inhaled an elongated breath to collect her thoughts and focused on her papers stacked neatly in front of her. Her voice travelled with intent, bold and confident despite the current circumstance.

"Our current stock is actually quite impressive. Since no expense was spared at startup, we have enough machines to more than break even."

"You are sure of this?"

Lauren gave a curt nod and continued, "More than, even. In fact, we'll be able to pay back all debts and distribute a decent severance pay to all twenty eight employees. Now, lets start with the 3D printers in the stem cell division, shall we?"

The meeting carried on through her entire workday. Chopping up the company assets to sell caused Lauren to suffer one of the worst cases of boredom she'd experienced in years to which she masked in careful subtlety.

Added to the clusterfuck was the fact that everyone there will be out of a job in a week.

And those beautiful machines she'd admired were going to be out of her hands? She was going to miss those the most.

The drive home was done in robotic movements and an autopilot, hazy state of mind. Once she crossed the front door of her apartment and lazily discarded her coat and keys, she shed the most of the tension through a shaky sigh and plopped herself down into her office chair. She felt her resolve to remain impassive fall away, and she let her muscles release its stiffness.

Tilting her head back, she inspected her home, elegant and blanketed in warm colors with a sad smile. She would miss this place from her impressive herbal collection in her massive garden to the beautiful hardwood floors.

It wasn't that she couldn't afford to float. That would be laughable for any member of the Lewis family. No, it was the fact that she made a promise to her mother to watch her little sister. Her sister, though only half her blood, was near and dear to her heart. Despite a small fall out, she missed her insufferable bratty sibling.

Aside from that, Lauren hated to be idle. She had a bucket list she could now pursue.

She looked at the letter atop the desk and took it into her hands to read for the dozenth time, a 'thank you for your service' letter with an official seal at the top. It seemed too tacky, but it was still nice to have some final recognition for her work, even if on a tacky letter.

The letter ended with a, "We thank you for your valuable contribution in the Ashton Fareigh Institute, and we wish you good luck on your next professional endeavor."

Lauren let go of the paper, let it drop onto the desk in her home office, and pinched the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger in a muted defeat.

When she accepted this one-in-a-lifetime job at the institute years before, she had the knowledge that it had private donors in high places, securing her position until retirement should she want to stay that long. Over the last year, the funds came through at a slowly declining rate. But, it was the one major contributor backing out to run the place to the ground, leaving her jobless.

But, Lauren was cushioned with wealth, always had been. She was financially stable and smart with how she spends (and not spends) her money that she projected she can float in an idle state for at least ten more years.

And if that failed, it will only take a phone call to her grandmother for instant access to the family estate.

She closed her eyes and shook that thought out of her head. There would be a rainy day in hell before she went crawling to Grandma Lewis with her tail between her legs.

That drum in her head was pounding a relentless beat, so she reached in her drawer and pulled out a bottle of scotch, poured it into a nearby glass, and sat in quiet respite while sipping from her glass.

Feeling the long day take drain away, she picked up her cell phone and dialed the only number she can think of, the number to the only person she wanted to talk to at that moment.

_"Yo, Doctor Freeze, this better be good because this lil mama has been bidding on the entire Jungle Jeeves set on blu-ray."_

"What? Kenzi, that can't be how you're spending your first paycheck," Lauren admonished.

_"No, of course not. Give me some cred. That's why I'm bidding on ebay. Cheap stuff. Also, I totes got like a ton left over. Plus, I can always call you if I run out."_

Lauren let out an aggravated breath.

"Kenzi," she began.

_"Two minutes left! I gotta go. Call you in three minutes!"_

The phone call ended abruptly and Lauren just sat there, blinking at her phone for ten whole seconds before hitting redial on her phone.

_"Oh my god, I need both hands, Lo. I need this!"_

Lauren shook her head at Kenzi despite knowing she couldn't see her.

"You don't need Jungle Jeeves, Mackenzie!" Lauren stated firmly and heard a gasp through the phone.

_"Be still my heart. You__** wound**__ me! Take that back or I'm telling Mom you were the one who destroyed her wedding dress at the country club."_

Lauren rolled her eyes. "You can't be serious right now."

"_As an IRS agent. I'm so telling her in my next visit."_

"You weren't even at the last Christmas dinner!"

_"Yeah, well neither were you!"_

Lauren smiled just a little, her eyes soft with a hint of sadness as she continued, "I made sure grandma Lewis cleaned her grave and set new flowers."

_"Stargazers, only, right? That's the only kind she liked."_

"Of course," Lauren assured.

_"Well, now I don't have the promise of Jungle Jeeves anymore. Some douche named skaterbob beat me out,"_ Kenzi sighed dramatically. _"So, what's up?"_

"Remember that job I had?"

_"Oh, Tits.. that's not a promising way to start news." _Then, after a beat,"_Um..Where you gonna work now?__** Are**__ you gonna work? 'Cause, you totes need like a bagillion years off..and a tan. Go all Bahama, mama!"_

She got her teaching certification on top of the mountain of accomplishments she acquired at her time at Yale.

So, it was no surprise that school administration at her new job doted on her, excited to have an up-and-coming scientist in the genetic circle. (She may be semi well-known, at least to those in the medical field, for several of her experiments at Ashton Fareigh). UC Berkeley offered a job in no time, along with many other universities and labs, but none of them had Kenzi. So, UC Berkeley wasn't an Ivy League or really that esteemed, but it offered more time with her half-sister, and that had been lacking the past several years.

Now she stood in front of the UC Berkeley campus a month after that dreadful meeting, amidst a sea of college freshmen wandering aimlessly through the campus grounds. The slightly more experienced students walked with their heads downward in an attempt to memorize their fruitful schedules.

Lauren remembered being that eager and hungry. Even now, she hungered, and she figured that this job is another learning experience in the art of teaching… sort of like tallying a bullet off a career bucket list…until she finds a decent research institute that will give her what she needs: Stability, top-of-the-line technology, and respect. Again._ If _she'll ever find that again.

She looked to her left where Kenzi stood looking ridiculous in her leather platform boots, a corset, and missed matched accessories that she somehow made work.

And that disturbing backpack she loved.

"Why do you insist on carrying your things in that eyesore of a bag?"

"Hey! You did _not _insult _the bag_!"

"It has a weird alien thing with stitches on the side of his head, and it's eating a taco." Really, what was the appeal in that?

"Tell me again why you want to play chaperone? I can't _learn _knowing my big sister is keep an eye out for me. God knows my freaking biology teacher has a massive hard-on for you. You should have seen her crazy, stalker eyes," Kenzi rambled and shivered at the last part of her rant.

Amused, Lauren raised an eyebrow at her.

"Professor Malcolm has an erection? As a sixty-three year old woman, Kenzi? Really?"

"When she found out - found out, Lauren- she asked me all coy-like, 'You're Doctor Lewis' little sister, right?' I'm pretty sure she googled you. God, that sounds so wrong in my mouth. We don't even have the same last names, for crying out loud!"

Lauren laughed; Kenzi always found a way to lighten the mood. She had wanted to get more acquainted with the area of Berkeley in general, but she found herself tagging along with Kenzi to campus, to which the girl whined and muttered about being embarrassed and loosing her street cred.

"Alright, Lo. I got class in five minutes. Art doesn't paint itself! Don't get lost!"

"Kenzi, wait! Do you have work tonight?"

"Oh yeah, but don't wait up. We have a full load tonight."

She watched the girl strut toward her class and furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. Kenzi never did disclose exactly what she did for her new job. When Kenzi called to assure her she got a job, all she said to Lauren was, "Oh yeah, it's just my type of thing. Don't worry; it's legit. I get free food and the occasional wine. "

She knew better than to ask questions; it'd only leave her more confused in the end. That, or furious.

She did, however make a mental note to ask about it later. At the moment, she had a laboratory to inspect.

* * *

"You have got to be fucking me, Evony," Tamsin said, her eyebrows set high on her forehead.

"Nice choice in words."

"You know what I meant. This isn't funny."

"Am I known for my humor?" The Dean of UC Berkeley sat, poised and calm, behind a mahogany desk. Shiny and in clear sight at the front of her desk was a metal name sign.

Doctor Evony Marquis. She was every bit beautiful as she was a pain in Tamsin's ass.

Knowing the meeting was going to be short (Tamsin had class in twenty minutes anyway), she didn't take the offered seat.

"Actually, y-," Tamsin began, because, Evony can be downright hilarious. It's just that she never meant to be.

"Not the point," Evony replied. She flicked a hand dismissively. " Mr. Anders sadly passed away two nights ago."

Tamsin bristled and placed a hand on each side of her own head and massaged her temples to avoid what could be a full-blown migraine.

"Shit. I'm sorry to hear that," Tamsin said. She shifted from one foot to the other. "But, I have a full work load already with those little shits. Can't you get one of the newbies to do it?" Her voice bordered on the edge of desperation, and she hated that Evony saw her vulnerabilities come out to play far too many times.

"Not anyone that I can pay at half salary. You'd get half salary in addition to what you're already being paid," Evony replied. She leaned forward and placed her hands on her desk, folding her hands.

Tamsin sighed and expelled a short, bitter chuckle. "So, you really don't want to pay two salaries and you're suckering me into it."

"Take it or leave it, honey."

"No. I don't need the money, and, like I said: I have too much of a workload already."

"Okay. I didn't want to have to pull out the big guns. But if you do this, you'll be up for that tenured spot you've been after for the past three years."

Tamsin closed her eyes and inhaled a shaky breath as she shook her head. "That is not cool. I- god- I can't stand the snotty attitude from the lower level classes. They've got no appreciation for the studies yet and expect their hands to be held while they come to class with hangovers."

"We all have to make sacrifices, Doctor Warwick." Evony said, her voice low and filled with a bit more force and professionalism than displayed since the beginning of the meeting. If her hard tone wasn't any indication of how serious she was, the title and last name would have been the key tell. "And, might I add that you were one of those students with hangovers."

Finally sensing the seriousness of the situation and the growing temptation at the prize offered, Tamsin took the seat that had been neglected.

"You're not making this easy."

Evony pursed her lips and leaned back in her chair. "Okay. Here's the deal. You'll only get two extra classes. But, you have to fill in the extra counseling spot for three hours a week." She took in a breath and added an eye-roll and added, "Fine. You get double Salary."

"Oh for fuck's sake," Tamsin hissed and felt her resolve loosen.

"I knew you'd come around."

"You owe me a round at the bar after my last class lets out."

"Never change, Tammy," Evony teased, and just like that, the tension in the air left.

"Oh fuck off with that Tammy shit. I didn't let you call me that when we were dating. Why would I allow that now?"

"Because, sweetheart, I'm giving you your tenure on a silver, shiny platter with my ass on the line."

"Whatever. I'm going to buy Mrs. Anders some flowers or something."

"Oh, by the way, you're going to be giving the newest chemistry department head a tour tomorrow."

Tamsin rose to her feet, turned around, and as she walked, muttered a very audible, "I hate you."

"So you say every week."


	2. Chapter 2

After the last class of the day let out, Tamsin figured she'd get the condolences out of the way before she headed to the bar she frequented. That sounded rude and impersonal, but she genuinely was sad for this woman. Mr. Anders was a smart man, and from what she heard from her colleagues, he was a great husband and father.

Mrs. Anders was eerily calm the moment Tamsin entered her house. The house was a cute little bungalow in the Berkeley Hills neighborhood, the rich type where you'd want to raise your children but still get the "Berkeley" feel.

Tamsin gave her final thoughts about Mr. Anders, all positive, of course (she seemingly was a bitch a lot of the time, but she wasn't overtly cruel). She was just praising his work in highly acclaimed science studies when Mrs. Anders shot up from her seat and cheerily declared that it was tea time and would she like a cookie, too? She was clearly in the denial stage; only two days had passed, of course she was.

Tamsin never did well with emotional people. Or emotions in general. Though genuine gestures were not a frequent display for Tamsin, that was not to say she didn't feel; quite the contrary. She would say it made her feel _too_ much. And that was something that she never wanted to deal with.

So, when Mrs. Anders' sons arrived with red-rimmed, sad and disbelieving eyes, she was relieved both at the opportunity to leave her uncomfortable stay and relieved of the new family that would fill the spaces between Mrs. Anders' grief and the following procedures to clear the dead. Upon departure, the awkward silences and "I'm sorry's" felt a little too forced and a little too impersonal when it fell out of her mouth, so ineloquent and foreign.

That was why the cold, refreshing glass of lager in her hand was the perfect end to her day. And, yeah, she had a PhD in psychology and was a well-respected professor, so she knew the ins and outs of the irony of it all.

She eyed the clock on the wall, noting that her friend was running late per usual and chugged the remnants of the beer in her hand before gesturing lazily to Trick, the bartender. Why he had a name like 'Trick' was beyond her, but it reminded her vaguely of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Except _that_ Trick was taller and, well, darker. With fangs.

She thought about this ridiculous comparison and snorted into her glass after her last swallow.

"'Another one?" he asked.

"I called you over here didn't I?" she smirked, her thoughts still swirling with amusement at just what this Trick would be if they were living in a supernatural world.

Maybe a gnome? House elf? Nah, he'd be a Keebler elf. All about cookies 'n shit.

She snickered at her own musings, and given that Trick was now sending her a pointed look that wasn't quite a glare, she guessed she was annoying the man who was in charge of her beer. So she had to play nice. She coughed her laugh away and mentally rolled her eyes.

"Sorry..just had somethin' funny pop up in my head."

Because Dyson was still aggravatingly late, she ordered another drink, but this time she chose something stronger- the type of drink that would make anyone else's eyes water.

Her mind wouldn't stop spewing unwelcome thoughts. She pulled her elbows up and perched them on the desk and placed her head in her upturned palms, cradling her head in a weak attempt to ward off the images and thoughts that mocked her. The strings that tethered her conscience to her heart wavered between sorrow and self-hatred.

Minutes later, she knew Dyson had taken his place beside her. It wasn't the squeak of the tool as he placed his weight on it, nor was it the sound of Trick placing a drink right next to hers. It was that damn smell of leather that wafted from those fucking leather vests.

Finally, he arrived.

"Jeez, Tamsin. You look like a wreck. Who died?" Dyson asked playfully.

Without warning or any pretense, Tamsin punched a single fist into this shoulder.

"What the-" he barked as he rubbed his shoulder, "that really hurt!"

"You insensitive asshole!" she barked and hit him again in the same spot before she downed the remainder of her drink.

"What are you talking about? I only just got here!" Dyson replied. Then, he took in her furrowed brows and the tightened hold she had on her drink like it was some dire lifeline.

Realization crept up to him abruptly like a slap in the face.

"Tamsin, I'm sorry. I didn't realize," he offered and paused a moment, not entirely sure what to say or how to approach her. She had a tendency to get violent when upset and confronted. She resembled a ticking time-bomb.

He settled for a soft and sincere, "Who?"

She looked at him and his concerned gaze and replied with, "No one I'm close to, really. I..It just made me think of.." She trailed off and opted to use a flick of her wrist in a telling gesture; it was something he knew in the past that the duo never talked about. Not really. And, definitely not tonight.

"Let me get you another drink," he finally said.

She looked into his eyes again and gave a small smile, thankful that he didn't pry further. That was the exact reason she called him instead of the one of her dalliances. They'd want to cuddle, and she had never really like that in the first place with them, but sometimes the masochistic part of her couldn't push away the opportunity to pretend.

She'd just lie there after the mediocre sex and hold them to pretend it was her.

It didn't help in the long run; she always ended up hating herself the day after...after opening that wound.

* * *

Lauren found that the lab was impressive for a state university. She spent most of the day asking questions and taking mental notes. The staff was friendly enough, a few of the men a little too friendly.

She found herself at her (Kenzi's) temporary home around eight in the evening. It was only when her stomach growled did she realize she hadn't eaten all day. She winced when she though of what could possibly be rotting in Kenzi's refrigerator. There was no semblance of cleanliness and organization in the place. The girl lived like a full out bachelor. Hell, she could have represented a whole frat house just fine in her small, little body. Clearly, Kenzi took after her father and not the shared mother they had.

Against her better judgment, she searched kitchen, and as a result, she frowned, gasped, and flopped herself down on the living room futon.

_"What can I say? I live simply. All I need is a TV, some vodka, and fruit loops,"_ Kenzi had said once Lauren arrived. That was only yesterday. Normally, she would get acquainted with the area, find her own place, and be scarily prepared for whatever she set up to do. This time, however, she had to remain at her old place until the business was thoroughly taken care of until its very end. Her place was easily sold with a hefty profit. That was why she found herself making a bed on Kenzi's very uncomfortable futon before searching for a snack.

In the kitchen, she found oreo's, fruit roll ups, pizza leftovers from various establishments, vodka, pancake batter, and a half-gallon of milk.

How the hell did her sister stay alive? She really needed to give her a serious talk about the dangers of getting scurvy.

Thankfully, there had been a pile of delivery menus, and that was enough to feed her for the night.

Lauren had been in a light state of sleep when Kenzi stumbled ungracefully into the place in the middle of the night.

There was a thump and a bang, followed by a "how did that get there?"

Lauren jolted up with a start and gave a small noise of discontent. She had just barely gotten to sleep. She heard shuffling and was going to try to fall back into a peaceful state, but then a small air current of cigarettes and booze wafted over to her nose.

"Kenzi, why do you smell like both an astray and whiskey?"

"And, you're s'posed to be the smart one," Kenzi slurred. "Use your prowers of de..deduction, nerdy pants."

"Prowers?" Lauren echoed.

Somewhere in-between a muttered "m'going to bed" and yet another loud bang, Lauren spotted the figure of another woman slowly approach. The soft, yet unwelcome light trickled in from the street light outside, allowing only the silhouette of the stranger to be seen. Annoyed, Lauren closed her eyes shut, shielding her from the world, most specifically, this situation of a drunk little sister and a complete stranger.

"Uh, hey," the figure said, and Lauren could hear the uncertainty the woman (she was thankful at least that Kenzi hadn't brought home some boy) carried.

"Thank you for bringing Mackenzie home safely. Though, I would rather her not be in such a vulnerable state this time of night. I can take it from here…" Lauren let the end of the sentence drift off so that this stranger took that as a hint to reveal her name.

"Oh," the stranger laughed, surprising Lauren at how pleasing it was to hear. This lightened the weight of Lauren's annoyance, but not by much.

The stranger continued, "I'm Bo. Look, I'm sorry for bringing her like this. After the seminar, I wanted to cheer her up after she failed her exam."

"What?" Lauren asked, surprised. Furious. She'd have to deal with that in the morning. Also, what seminar? She'd ask about that, too.

"Oh, shit. I probably wasn't supposed to say that, huh? You must be the sister, Lauren."

Lauren only nodded then realized it was still dark and the woman probably wouldn't see her. Rolling her eyes at herself, she just said, "Yes. That's me. I'm the sister."

What was that? Lauren chastised herself for sounding so lame.

Bo laughed again, and yes, Lauren concluded it was definitely a pretty sound.

"Well, I see Kenz is in good hands. See you around, Lauren The Sister." Bo teased.

And then she was gone.

As a habit, Lauren padded her feet lightly toward Kenzi's room to check on her safety. When they were children, it was because she was worried Kenzi was having a nightmare or maybe had fallen off the bed.

This night, it wasn't too different. With that loud bang not to long after she stumbled into the room, Lauren was worried that she'd find her sister on the floor as a result of banging her head.

She found Kenzi safe and sound on her bed still in her clothes. With a loving eyeroll, Lauren quietly walked to the end of her sister's bed to remove her shoes. It was complicated and not of the normal shoelace procedure. It was a strange pattern, but upon a quick ten second overlook of its structure, she removed the shoes without fail.

The rest of Kenzi's clothes would have to stay put.

So, Lauren placed a kiss on Kenzi's forehead and said goodnight.

* * *

Tamsin awoke with the taste of vague, foul remnants of cheap liquor in her mouth, a pounding headache, and the overwhelming sensation of unwavering nausea. She was a pro at this hangover shit; this happened more times than she could count and more times than she would willingly admit. So, she went about her routine of popping an Ativan and hopping into the hottest shower she could stand.

She walked out of her house and shoved herself and her briefcase into the ugliest truck she'd ever seen, probably will ever see. Despite that and the gas it liked to eat at an alarming rate, she wouldn't want any other vehicle. A few of her colleagues met the truck with firm derision and voiced a statement along the lines of, "You seriously own this old piece of a metal?"

And she'd reply with something along the lines of "Oh, it's cute you act like you think I give a shit about what you think."

The engine sputtered when she finally parked in the university lot. She smiled, not about the coughing fit her truck was apparently having (and had been having for the past few years), but at the fact that in the very near future she'd have her very own parking spot at the front row.

Her first class of the day was the "lower level" classes Evony had assigned the day before, which, in actuality, were the upper level courses that weren't of the graduate variety where Tamsin lay comfortably.

She was met with an empty classroom- not a surprise since she had arrived early, wanting precisely that: silence while she dealt with the remainder of her hangover.

With a sloppy, barely legibly script, she scribbled her title and name on the large whiteboard in the back. A scrawny boy, who's name she found out (from him when he gave his name without invitation) was Atherton, fiddled about with cords and an iMac that sat at the front of the room on its own desk adjacent to hers.

"Keep it down, will you?" she asked, settling her papers in the order she wanted to direct the lecture.

"Sorry, Miss."

"Doctor," she corrected. She worked damn hard to earn that degree; people, especially students, better damn well use it. "Doctor Warwick."

The boy left after ten minutes of resupplying the contents of the room and verified the settings of the electronics, and that was when the students started trickling in.

She swore half of them looked to be around fifteen. Christ, she was getting old. She sucked in a breath before reaching for her lecture notes.

This class, like most undergrad classes, was huge. This certain room held three hundred and twenty seats, and they were filling up. Fast. She knew half of them would be texting throughout the whole lesson while the rest interacted with whatever social media they liked on their laptops. Only a few dozen would actually pay enough attention to her. It was lecture day, not discussion day.

She noticed a few eager faces with their pens poised, a few had their laptops at the ready as they looked at her with intense focus.

As normal, a few spots remained unoccupied at the front row; no one wanted to be that close and that noticeable.

"Good morning. As you can see, I am not your normal professor. It pains me to tell you that Mr. Anders passed away a few days ago. I'm to take his spot. I assure you I am well qualified to teach this class," Tamsin said. She heard a few gasps and a few, "oh shit" whispers.

"I'm Doctor Warwick, and you will address me as such. I normally teach graduate level classes, so please bare with me if I get too intense. I don't know what Mr. Anders gave you for an assignment last, so I'm gonna say we're taking a fresh start. Whatever you needed to turn in is null. There will be a five thousand word essay due each week, a quiz every other week, and of course the midterm and final." There were handfuls of groans. She expected this; Mr. Anders may have been a great man, but he was known to have gone easy on his students.

"In addition, I require mandatory group study sessions. I will place twelve group signup sheets by the door. Ten people per group. You will conduct a study on whatever subject you see fit- as long as it has to do with the subject of this class. This is a semester long study, so it will be do at the end of the semester in a presentation. How you do that presentation is up to your creativity.

"Oh. And, you will be required to show your ID when exams show up. I know of the scams that are played. I used to run one of those in my time," she smirked. The students gave one another looks of horror. They didn't know if they should be scared or impressed.

Ten minutes into her lecture, she took pride that more people than expected were taking notes. She probably scared the wits out of half of them; that's the way she preferred it.

Suddenly, a very thin, very interesting looking girl stumbled into class. Quite literally, she stumbled, and her sunglasses flew off of her face and slid across the floor a few feet.

"Oh, for Jeeve's sake," the girl muttered.

Tamsin stopped her talking all together and crossed her arms while the girl took one of the only remaining seats available in the front row.

"Gee, I'm sorry we started without you, Miss..."

"Malikov. Mackenzie Malikov. Look, I'm so sorry I'm late," Kenzi sputtered as she eyed the rest of the students. "It's just that-"

"Your alarm didn't go off?" Tamsin questioned as she tilted her head. She continued with the same mocking tone in her voice, "Your bus didn't come? You got lost? What was it?"

Tamsin gestured for the girl to get out of her seat and approach her.

Kenzie swallowed, got out of the seat and walked a few feet short of Tamsin and raised her eyebrows in surprised at the gall of this woman. "Um, no," Kenzie said. "I was going to say that I'm hungover and puked about three times on the way here."

The class broke out into laughter and snickers, to which Kenzie ignored.

Tamsin quirked an eyebrow, taken by complete surprise at the bluntness the girl responded with.

Maybe it was because Tamsin herself was still feeling the effects of last night's indulgence that she reached into her bag, took a bottle of ibuprofen and tossed it toward her newest arrival.

Kenzie caught it, easily, took a few pills and dry swallowed them. She got closer and handed the bottle to the professor before she opened her mouth to say, "Dude, you're totally not Mr. Anders. Unless, oh my god, did you get a sex change?"

What? Tamsin blinked.

"Sorry, that assumption is quite out of gamut here. I'm actually your new professor. Mr. Anders has passed away," Tamsin responded.

Kenzie's eyes widened and a few tears gathered. "But, just last week he was telling us about how he was going to adopt a puppy!"

She started sobbing.

Then Tamsin guessed at what could be happening. So, she leaned toward the girl so that only she'd hear.

"Mackenzie, are you possibly still drunk?"

Kenzie sniffled and nodded. "Yeah, maybe."

"Go home and meet me at the counselors lounge tomorrow."


End file.
